damnation
by BlackRosePoetry
Summary: "shh. do you hear the voices? listen. he's coming." Otherwise known as the one where Penelope Spectra bites off more than she can chew and pays the piper in Vlad Masters' blood. Misery Motivated pairing; warnings for mentions of abuse, gore, and psychological trauma. Also, grown-up language.
1. damnation

Vlad Masters is an enigma.

he is an enigma shrouded in scars, steeped in poison and depravity and self-loathing. a beautiful mess of a beast with bloody red eyes and ectoplasm dripping from his fangs. he is a monster and a man and a ghost and a _mistake_ , intoxicating and heady in his misery.

Vlad Masters is fucking _dangerous_.

and Penelope Spectra realizes this far too late.

~*O*~

someone is screaming in the distance and Vlad is covered in blood and there's so much misery in the air that she can't think, can't breathe for the electric power surging through her chest, and Penelope would be giddy with excitement if the sight before her wasn't so fucking _horrifying_.

he keeps laughing.

he's torn to shreds and holding a fucking heart in his hand, blood and ectoplasm spattered across his cheeks, and Vlad just keeps on cackling. it's a harsh sound and it rings like glass shattering. she can see his eyes – bloody and pupil-less – and they're haunting. panicked and giddy with a sick kind of euphoria. like a torture survivor who finally managed to escape the chains, beat the master, again and again until blood was slick on bruised knuckles.

the corpse on the ground is steaming in the December air.

it used to be an animated man, one whose inventions nearly peeled her into oblivion, one who loved fudge and ham and worshiped the ground his wife walked on. the wife who couldn't seem to stop shrieking.

Vlad keeps laughing.

she's made something more than just a monster

~*O*~

the moon is cold overhead and Halloween whispers _come play with us, Penny. . . ._

 _the broken things are crying. . ._

she listens to her baser instincts and then hones them to razor-edges, hunts for her prey and remains vicious. tenacious. but there's a catch. she's got to stay pretty. vivacious. painted in peach skin and crimson hair and green eyes.

broken things flock to that which makes them smile.

after all, what is the purpose of beauty if not to bring a smile?

~*O*~

do you hear them? the voices?

listen.

he's coming.

~*O*~

it nearly bowls her over when she passes, his despair.

emotions have flavor, for those who are not savvy in the ways of the emotiphage. joy tastes like honey, thick and syrupy. anger is chili peppers and rage, charred meat. envy is sour, lemons and granny apples. sadness is blue raspberry lollipops.

and misery?

misery is chocolate, sweet and light and coating her tongue, mixed with thick caramel _despair_.

the taste hits her like a freighter. a delicacy for a connoisseur.

so Penelope Spectra turns to face her next meal, her next source of power thrumming in time with her core. . .

and he's _beautiful._

a tall man, broad in the chest and wrapped in dense muscle. blue skin. black hair swept into devil horns. from a distance his fangs look massive, gleaming with venom, and she knows that they'll be even bigger up close.

and his _eyes_!

red, red, red, the color of blood illuminated iridescent, awash with tears and filled with rage and _beautiful_.

she asks his name.

Vlad Masters.

it tastes like anguish – blood blossoms and copper pennies.

~*O*~

there are purple fingerprints ringing her neck and a split in her lip, but Penny doesn't want to leave.

not yet.

she's not ready. _he's not ready_.

she's beginning to panic, trapped in the all-encompassing suffocation of his obsession and his cruelty and the demons trapped in the steel-plate walls of that brilliant mind.

because Vlad Masters is exacting, methodical, scientific. but he's also manic, depraved, shattered, and Penelope Spectra may be the most talented emotiphage (she was once a psychiatrist) in the Ghost Zone but she's wondering if this meal will be her second death.

because, yes, Vlad Masters is manic and, yes, Vlad Masters is cruel. he doesn't hesitate to bash her across the face if she says something to war with his perceptions, doesn't hold back when he grips one of those massive hands around her throat and hurls her into a wall. she spills harsh truths and cruel realities and he retaliates with ectoplasmic blasts and steel-fisted backhands. they scream and they fight and they fuck until his back is weeping red and she can't walk. some days she lays in his bed, cries and cries and _cries_ until she feels like her head might explode because she brought this upon herself.

it's a sick sick game they play, the witch and the demon.

but then those beautiful eyes crystallize, and he babbles out apologies.

and there's gentle fingers washing away the ectoplasm dripping from her nose.

and then he draws her a hot bath and washes her hair, and he kisses her bruised temples, and Vlad Masters dries her off, wraps her in soft luxurious sheets and his arms, buries his face in her hair, promises to be _better_.

the misery washing off him, the self-loathing, the determination – they're drugs and she's high and she _fucking believes him_.

and it happens again. . . .

and again. . . .

and again. . . .

~*O*~

she's come to realize that Danny Fenton isn't _just_ an epic pain in the ass.

Danny Fenton is a _genuinely good kid_ and the thought of what Vlad's about to do makes her nauseous.

she feeds on misery, yes, but if she didn't, she'd fucking _die_ (that's a rationalization, sweetie) so, really, she's not a complete monster. she's never pushed someone to suicide (not true not true not true so sorry) and she _will not_ feed on someone younger than thirteen because, honestly, she has _some_ standards. teenagers are usually angsty little assholes anyway. it doesn't take much to get a good meal off a high-schooler.

but here's this kid, who _fucking died_ in some sort of accident with a ghost portal, this kid who fights ghosts and tries - and fails - to keep up with his homework. a kid who attempts to learn from his mistakes and makes fucking _puns_ during a fight and carries around that stupid thermos like his half-life depends on it. here's this kid named Danny Fenton who keeps himself a secret to protect the people he loves, a kid she tried to break not even a year ago.

he meets her in the abandoned hospital, saves classmates who mock and bully him, and when her shadow form slips away, reveals the damage to the human-suit beneath, this _fucking kid_ looks horrified. she realizes her mistake too late, returns to being a bitchy shade and tries to ignore how her arms ache in the shape of hand prints and the angry plasma burn on the left side of her face.

"holy shit, Spectra, what happened?!"

Danny Fenton is a _genuinely good kid_ whom she has strapped to a table in an abandoned hospital, and he's concerned about _her_.

"nothing that can't be fixed with a bit of you, Danny-boy."

and she wheels him into the suction aggressively, flips the switch to ignore how badly her hands are shaking.

(she notices Danny throws not a single punch in the ensuing battle, notices how he watches her with traces of panic and concern, and if she attacks him with more viciousness than was typically warranted, well, that's the fucking kid's fault.)

the plan fails.

Vlad holds her as she cries herself to sleep and the next day he breaks her ribs.

~*O*~

watch.

listen.

the clock is ticking in the walls.

~*O*~

it takes exactly three weeks to get into Vlad Masters's bed.

he is cunning and he is cold and he is _so broken_. the thrill of it is almost more than she can stand. but he is still a man, a man with beautiful blue eyes that sparkle like ice chips in december. calculating and shining with intelligence that makes this so much more fun. it's one thing to manipulate an idiot. it's another thing to sink into the mind of a warped genius.

but Penelope Spectra matches him step for step and the game of chess begins.

he snaps and snarls, claims that he doesn't need her, doesn't want her - move the pawns, protect the king. she responds with coos and sighs, points out that his little _obsession_ is far from healthy - flaunt the knight, ready the queen for a surprise attack.

he lives alone in a castle in wisconsin and has no one to associate with but corporate flunkies, middle-aged men with sweaty bald heads and leering grins. and though he is practically frothing at the mouth over a certain Maddie Fenton, he is still a man. so Penelope flashes a little leg, leaves a few extra opalescent buttons undone, winks at him over the rim of her sunglasses while she weaves the web and manipulates the chessboard.

in the end, all it takes is a few bourbon sours and the revelation that she has a _stupidly awkward_ laugh to make her broken beast take the bait.

it's sloppy and it's messy, and Vlad seems to obsess over control to almost the same degree as he obsesses over his precious Maddie.

but though he's a fucking _terrible_ kisser, his tongue is talented for other things, and she adores the way his hands move over her ribcage and squeeze her breasts, the way his cock is thick but not too long and the fact that she can feel his pulse thump-thump-thumping beneath the heavy muscle of his chest. he finishes by biting down on her left shoulder, fangs gleaming, and with the fresh infusion of enraged self-loathing she feels invincible so she allows the trespass.

(there's venom pumping under her skin and her vision goes fuzzy for a few minutes, muscles lax in Vlad's grip, and later she notices that the bite scars even though she's a ghost and something like apprehension tickles in the back of her mind)

(she ignores it and retaliates by biting Vlad's clavicle the next time they fuck)

(he scars too)

~*O*~

Penelope Spectra has never been arrested before now, and for some reason the thought of being trapped in Walker's prison is less terrifying than the thought of returning to Vlad after witnessing his earlier rage.

the cuffs burn and chafe, but she thinks that might be because her wrists are already ringed by fingerprints, so she just stays in her shade form and keeps her mouth shut. these assholes don't need any leverage. she's heard the rumors, knows that the goons can scent weakness, but she takes solace in the fact that her reputation precedes her. most of the guards give her a wide berth, and Bullet looks at her like she might sprout horns and attempt to exorcise him.

ha - what a funny thought.

(she isn't the demon anymore)

they frog-march her into the warden's office, chain her to an uncomfortable straight-backed chair, and Walker enters with that stony texas grimace he's so well known for. he explains the rules. states that he is warden, judge, jury, and executioner - three times on the last part - as though she is unaware of who exactly he is and how precisely fucked she is. but Penelope is smart and Penelope is damn good at what she does, so she keeps her mouth shut until the moment is right.

"do you know why you're here?"

her lips are dry, cracked, and she licks them before answering. "i assume i broke one of your many rules, warden."

and then Walker's skull-like face stretches into a grin, and she thinks it would've been handsome were it not so fucking terrifying.

"you're here because i want _Plasmius_. word is around the zone that you and him Bit - it's the perfect way to get that jackass outta my business permanently."

(it scarred they bit each other and they scarred and she's _so fucking stupid_ )

panic floods Spectra like poison because _Vlad is already furious with her_ and this will NOT do anything to help her situation. but panic does nothing to solve problems. keep your head. think things through. find the solution in the shit-storm you've created, Penny, you've gotta do this.

"warden, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Vlad Plasmius is an associate, nothing more." her voice doesn't shake and she's impressed by her self-control.

Walker _snorts_ \- fucking prick - and invades her personal space, blunted nose mere inches from her own. "ya'll can't lie to me, sugar-tits. you reek like him. ya'll must go at it like rabbits."

she bristles. "i never said we weren't associates with _benefits_ , warden. but beside that point, if you've got nothing to hold me on - which i know for a fact you don't - i would like to leave."

it happens without warning.

a large hand, almost exactly like Vlad's (her monster her lover her breaker _hers_ ) reaches up and electricity spasms down her form. she yelps in surprise and the shade-skin drops, leaving a bruised bloody Penelope sitting in a chair with wide eyes and a bite-scar glowing faintly on the white skin of her left shoulder. Walker looks startled by the black eye and the livid hand-prints around her neck. but then his eyes travel to the mark and they turn into fucking _saucers._

 _"sweet fucking Christ_ , what the shit did ya'll **_do_**?!"

(being Bit isn't supposed to be so obvious and the marks are usually faint, but theirs look fresh and Penelope knows this isn't healthy but she _needs him_ and his misery so the mark just keeps getting darker and deeper)

Penelope tries to ignore the fact that she is trembling. "i would like to go please."

Walker lets her leave without another word and when she returns to the manor, Vlad is waiting with a bottle of her favorite wine and a bouquet of purple hyacinths and red roses. he kisses her on the forehead, blue eyes like shattered diamonds, and his apology spills forth like a well-sung lullaby.

she notices his bite is deeper than hers and that tainted love tastes like Irish coffee.

they fall asleep curled so tightly together that she cannot tell whose limbs belong to whom, and the taste of chocolate lingering on her tongue makes her nauseous.

~*O*~

are

you

beginning

to

see?

of course you aren't

let's go deeper, shall we?

~*O*~

she drapes herself across his broad shoulders and admires the way his fingers manipulate the delicate components of his new weapon.

Vlad Masters is not the world's leading businessman due to shady dealings or sheer luck - no, he is there because he knows how to manipulate the chessboard.

he knows which strings to pluck, which strings to unravel, which threads to knot to make the music to his liking. knows the cogs that turn and the gears that grind. he's an engineer, a biologist, a mathematician, a physicist, an inventor.

if he _knows_ something, he can _use_ it.

strangely, watching him work has become one of her favorite pass-times. she likes watching him at his finest, brow furrowed in concentration and blue eyes intense as they narrowed in on the variables of a complex equation. he builds things that do the impossible. combines ectoplasm with tissues and builds sleek conglomerations of steel around them. he takes the natural laws of what he knows and bends them, twists them to a shape that suits his needs until they become something greater than they once were.

it's beautiful.

(he's beautiful and broken and all _hers_ )

he puts the final touches on the circuit board, inspects the contraption from every angle, then places it on the workbench with a pleased noise. though, that last part might be because she's begun to comb her fingers through his thick hair, removing the top-knot he's put it in to smooth through strands of gleaming silver. he purrs like a contented kitten and she nuzzles the top of his head, tastes joy like sticky-sweet honey and inhales the scent of machining oil mixed with lemongrass shampoo.

(she could get used to this)

they stay like that for ten minutes before he turns and kisses her on the tip of the nose, retreats upstairs to take a shower, and leaves her to inspect the impossible weapon for herself.

(it's the only night that week they don't go to bed bloody, and as she curls against him and listens to the sound of his heartbeat a tiny part of her heart cries at the fact that it isn't always like this)

the next day he tests the weapon on some poor octopus ghost, and the thing fucking _explodes_ , shrieking in agony all the while, and Vlad's expression is equal parts exasperated and indifferent as he steps over the mangled remains of what was once a sentient being.

"cheese logs - it was supposed to _vaporize_ the stupid thing, not leave a mess in my lab."

Penelope is silent as she leaves but when she finally makes it to the bedroom, she collapses and stares numbly at Vlad's favorite picture on the wall. a picture of them at the county fair, her face scrunched up in laughter as he gnaws playfully on her cheekbone, cotton candy stuck in his beard.

(penny dear, aren't you doing so well?)

~*O*~

there is a monster who looks like Danny in the zone.

he is tall and broad in the chest, thickly muscled and handsome. his eyes are red and his skin is tinted slightly green, hair that twists upwards in a shock of white flames. the signature black-on-white suit a mockery of what was once a _genuinely good kid_ as he tears a path of destruction through her home. the others dare not call him _Danny_ , instead choosing to call him Phantom, as though the omission of the familiar first-name will do anything to distinguish between a monster and a boy who simply wants to protect his family from them.

Penelope knows better.

because this newcomer wears an older Danny's face but he smells like her Vlad, tastes that rage and despair and pain, charred steaks and blood blossoms and copper pennies. she catches a glimpse of him one day as he pushes towards Pariah's Keep, and she feels the mark on her left shoulder burn, an ache that doesn't want to go away. she isn't afraid, not really, until he stops in mid-air and begins searching with calculating eyes. shattered ruby eyes that pierce and burn and hold ten thousand secrets.

they turn to her and Penelope freezes like a rabbit caught by a wolf.

and he hovers in front of her for a solid five minutes, a hair's-breadth away, face contorted in an expression that she can't quite read. but the taste of sweet milk chocolate lays thick on her tongue as she looks at him. a massive hand lifts and brushes ever so gently across the side of her cheek, the one that isn't sore from an earlier confrontation that week.

"i killed you on accident in my time."

"i don't think this Vlad will do it on accident."

the monster who wears Danny _genuinely good kid_ Fenton's face smiles at her, kisses her on the forehead, and he is gone.

~*O*~

the clock ticks.

tocks.

stops.

~*O*~

her throat hurts, feels like it's been split wide open, and idly Penelope realizes that she's screaming.

she clutches Vlad close to her body, cradles his head close to her shoulder, and the panic that is shrieking through her veins is almost too much to handle because _holy fucking shit_ her Vlad has a hole in his chest, gaping wide open with bits of shattered ribs peeping through the torn muscle and shredded skin. and he's gasping, choking desperately for air that his shredded lungs can't take in, and one of those big hands comes up and cups the side of her face as she rocks him. he's gurgling, choking on blood, ice-crystal diamond eyes awash with tears and she's covered in crimson-green and _screaming._

"i. . . l-love. . . y - "

and he can't finish the sentence because "fucking hell, you idiot, don't talk you don't have enough air for that. just breathe for me, Vlad, baby, i need you to breathe."

but the Fenton bazooka has done it's job flawlessly. and even though she presses hard on the wound, her hand isn't big enough to staunch the bleeding and something fucking _crunches_ under her fingers when she pushes down and she thinks she's going to be sick. he can't die. not like this. not yet. he can't leave because _she's not ready_ and he's all she's got, what keeps her beautiful (the mark on her shoulder burns) and he isn't allowed to die until she damn well says he can.

the light in those eyes fades to black and the screaming reaches a fever pitch and she can't let go of the body, won't let go, rocks him back and forth, strokes his hair and kisses his lips as they cool and presses their foreheads together. and the blood on her skin is getting tacky and it's pulling on the wounds that line her forearms and someone behind her keeps saying her name. Spectra Spectra Spectra - but that's not what she wants to hear. she wants to hear Penelope Penny princess precious (fucking bitch lying cunt goddamn whore) my dear my darling (witch temptress) but that's never going to happen again and, holy shit, why won't her body stop _screaming?!_ it hurts.

it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts

(bring him back bring him back give him back love him)

"Penelope, darlin', you need to let him go. c'mon, sugar-tits, that's a girl. let 'im go."

someone's taking him. no. _no no no no no they can't take him_ she needs him to be okay, to wake up and look at her and smile in that way that makes her stomach flop, and "LET ME GO LET ME GO GIVE HIM BACK VLAD!"

big hands pry her off, pull her thrashing and shrieking away from what is left of who was once her world. and she fights him like an animal with teeth and nails but the hands are stronger than she is (she hasn't eaten in days) and eventually they manage to pin her against a heavy-muscled chest.

she fights. and she fights. and she _fights_.

but Walker is a fucking prick, and he holds her tight, rocks her like a little child with a hand to the back of her head. let's her pound against the front of his chest even though her blows are directed exactly in the way to make him hurt.

she's so tired.

eventually, she gives up.

and she cries and cries and _cries_. . . .

"hush, now, hon'. i gotcha. let it out. it's gonna be alright. shhhhh - you're gonna be just fine."

(he's fucking lying)

Walker holds her so tight that she almost doesn't notice that Danny has tackled his mother and stares with wide, horror-struck eyes at the woman who was once one of his more dangerous enemies.

guilt tastes like tequila.

~*O*~

"why are you so determined to get revenge on Jack Fenton?"

Vlad's arms tighten around her waist. but he doesn't lash out, so that's good at least. instead he nuzzles in tighter, the heat radiating from his core soothing against the half-healed bruises littered along her back. their fingers weave together, and she can't help but smile as he kisses the very edge of the bite-mark on her left shoulder.

because the moon is full and round, warm summer wind fluttering the curtains to the Masters bedroom, and they haven't fought today, and Vlad holds her tight like she's everything precious in the world and this is _nice_. it's _nice_ feeling like someone loves her (even though she feeds on him and he still loves his precious Maddie and the bruises on her throat still haven't quite healed) so she raises his hand to her lips, presses a kiss to the super-heated skin.

he's quiet for a moment.

"Jack and Maddie were my best friends. my _only_ friends in the entire world. and he didn't even check to see if i was standing in front of that prototype portal before he turned it on. he knew those calculations were off. he _knew_ that i wanted to run a safety check before we proceeded. but Jack didn't listen. and Jack didn't care. so now i'm a monster and he's married to the woman i loved more than anything."

(something in Penelope's chest cracks at that little confession)

the thick arms pull her in closer and his chest heats up even more, fangs grazing the back of her neck, and his voice deepens as he finishes his thoughts.

"they were my best friends and they _ruined my life_. he ruined _everything_. so now he has to pay."

they lay there in the quiet for another few minutes, Penelope small compared to Vlad's muscular torso but blade-sharp when compared to the jagged edges of his psyche. she turns over in his arms and tucks her head under his chin, catches a whiff of his favorite cologne. he purrs low in his chest and kisses her on the lips. long and slow, sweet and soft.

he's gotten much better at it.

Penelope smiles before he even pulls away, tastes Irish cream on her tongue, and hums as he presses their foreheads together. her eyelids are heavy, sleep closing in. he's warm. he's a perfect weight against her waist. and his eyes, fractured diamonds, tinge with just the slightest bit of red as he whispers.

"but i think you're the best thing that's happened since the accident."

she slips into sleep with the feeling of her core fluttering in her chest and the whispered "love you, princess" ringing in her ears.

~*O*~

tick.

tock.

the clock doth stop.

~*O*~

"Momma, how come i don't have a Daddy like everyone else?"

"sweetie we've talked about this. your Daddy had to leave before you were born."

"how come?"

"it's complicated, baby. grown up things."

"that's what you always say. . . . i'm sorry, Momma! i didn' mean ta make you sad! don't be sad!"

"i'm not sad."

"you're lying. you always taste like licorice when you're sad, and it's yucky. i don' mean to make you sad. honest."

"i know you don't."

she picks him up. chubby with baby fat, warm and soft, smelling of strawberry shampoo and tasting like cough medicine. his arms squeeze tight around her neck and she holds him firm, eyes stinging.

"i love you, momma."

he tastes like bubbly champagne. pure love. untainted. unconditional.

"i love you, too Vladimir."

~*O*~

(Danny Fenton watches from the sidelines)

(Danny Fenton has lost his mother, lost his father, lost his arch-enemy)

(Danny Fenton aches)

(he wills her to live)

(they both do)

~*O*~

 **Author's Note:**

 **So. . . . I'm alive? I think?**

 **Have some Misery Motivated. Again. I'm not entirely sure how I came up with this. It kind of just happened based upon a dream I had, and then it just blossomed from there. And as much as I love both of these characters - and, let's be honest, this pairing - I know deep down that it would never have a chance of being a healthy relationship. Neither Vlad nor Penelope has the mentality to be together like that.**

 **I also have developed the slightest obsession with the thought that Spectra isn't as bad as she makes herself out to be? Like, she's super bitchy and excellent at what she does but deep down she knows that the only reason she feeds on negative emotions are the ones that she feels the most often. And I also have a head-canon that as much as she seems to hate teenagers, she utterly REFUSES to feed off of children. Because children aren't corrupted like adults yet, and their emotions are just so much purer.**

 **Also slight notes of Walker/Spectra because fuck my sanity.**

 **Maybe I'll add more. Maybe I'll keep this a one-shot.**

 **What do you guys think?**

 **As always, please leave a comment in the precious box below the cut, and thank you for taking the time to read this.**


	2. absolution

Penelope Spectra is a blessing disguised as a curse.

she is sharp edges and sharp grins, soft curves disguising a wickedly dangerous intellect. she is a shadow that dances around him on faery-light feet, toys with the edges of his shattered-glass spirit until he snarls and snaps at her. but then she responds with a smile. with a hand through his hair.

she eats his misery (bet it tastes like Belgian chocolate _piyavka_ ) and swallows his spite.

she stays anyway.

Penelope Spectra is a blessing disguised as a curse.

and Vlad Masters realizes this far too late.

~*O*~

he's dead.

he's dead he's dead _the bastard is finally dead!_

and Vlad can't stop laughing.

blood and ectoplasm is spattered on his cheeks and every inch of his body aches because, hot _damn_ , Maddie is a hell of a shot, and that's not good in combination with Daniel's furious assault. but it doesn't matter now because _Jack fucking Fenton is dead_!

there's a heart in his hand and a corpse at his feet, the man who stole his everything dead, and Vlad can't stop laughing.

he wishes he could.

(no he doesn't)

because somewhere Maddie is screaming, shrieking like a wounded animal, and Penelope is looking at him like he's the most disturbing thing she's ever seen in her afterlife, and Daniel has dropped to the ground in horror with the reflection of his father's lifeless corpse illuminated in his toxic green eyes. but he can't stop and he _won't stop_.

ding-dong the beast is dead, the wicked beast in the east is dead.

(no, he's not, the real beast won't stop laughing)

~*O*~

pretty Penny made a monster

(but, then again, did she _really_?)

~*O*~

the moon is mocking and the wind blows arctic, Halloween whispering _come play with us, Vlad. . . ._

 _you're broken and you're crying. . . ._

he's shattered-glass shards of what was once a promising young man, and poison drips from bitter lips as he thinks of all the ways he's been wronged. been mocked. been _fucked over_ and _fucked with_ and he's so _fucking sick and tired_ of watching everyone around him be happy when nothing in his entire goddamned life is happy.

but he wasn't valedictorian of his graduating class for nothing, and so he hones his instincts into razor-thin edges and learns to play the game of politics. of business. of diplomacy. because though he is an inventor, a mathematician, a physicist, a biologist, the sharp edges put people off.

if he _knows_ something, he can _use it_.

~*O*~

listen, little one.

do you hear them?

your demons are singing.

~*O*~

heat creeps up the back of his neck until Vlad nearly drops from mid-air.

power carries sensation for those not savvy in the ways of the (freak) half-ghost. the weakest ghosts run cold, like sticking your head in a freezer on a hot day. annoying after a time, but not deadly. the stronger the ghost, the more heat they put off, and one time he met a ghost (an ancient, a beast, a monster like me) so very powerful that he felt like he was burning.

 _burning burning burning, flesh peeling, face dripping, get me out get me out get me OUT!_

so though this is by far not the most intense sensation he's ever experienced, it's enough that it makes him stop and search. he turns. . . .

and she's _beautiful._

tall and slender, red hair and pale skin and generous curves giving way to legs for days, and he's sure that her hair is swept into devil horns like his for a reason, and there's something about the curve of her nose, the shape of her jaw that shrieks _succubus_ , and a tiny pair of fangs glint from behind peach-stained lips.

and those _eyes!_

not lavender, not like his Maddie's, but green like spring and green like poison and green like the envy-monster that pulses through his veins in time with his galloping heart and, fucking _no_ , universe, you will _not_ pull this shit right now! not when everything is coming apart (it's coming together) and he's losing his mind (he's taking back what's his) and. . . .

she asks his name and, holy shit, his brain has stopped working.

he replies.

she reciprocates – Penelope Spectra.

it feels like sinking into a sauna.

~*O*~

he wonders why she hasn't left yet.

because there are fingerprints on her neck and a split in her lip and Penelope is _still here_ , like she doesn't want to leave. he wants her to go (pleasepleaseplease don't leave me) because he's a fucking beast. he's a beast and she's not Maddie, not his precious one, and he _hurts her_.

and sometimes he catches her mid-panic, hiding in the bedroom with her head in her hands and muttering to herself through great gulps of air that she doesn't actually need, and he knows _exactly_ how that feels. it's like being caught in a bear-trap, agonizing, ripping through limbs and cracking mind-bones as the steel-claw teeth close in. run, run, little rabbit, the wolves are coming for you.

Vlad hates looking at her face sometimes, hates listening to her pretty voice spew truths (lieslieslieslies) that he has no interest in hearing and warp the way he's developed his precious mental view, and sometimes he just fucking

 _snaps_

and before he knows it, he's blasted her through a couple of walls, he's pinned her down to the floor, hands around her throat (go for the jugular), he's bashed her across the face with hands encased in ectoplasm. they scream and they fight and they're beasts out for blood.

it's a sick sick game they play, the demon and the witch.

and then he takes a good long look, listens as she groans, and everything in him wants to fucking _die_ because, _holy shit_ , who just _does this_?!

so he gathers her to him like a precious thing (she is) and babbles out apologies that run over one another, wipes away the ectoplasm dribbling over her lips and chin, and he draws her a bath. washes her hair with the rosemary-mint shampoo she loves so much and kisses the edges of her bruised temples, tears burning like hellfire in his eyes.

wraps her in soft sheets and holds her close (she's the perfect size to cuddle) and buries his face where she can't see it and _promises_ to be better.

(he's been studying how emotiphage metabolism works, knows how to spot the sudden liquid relaxation of her muscles, _knows how to keep her there_ )

(he watches the way she gets sleepy, cuddles closer to him, and strokes his hand through her hair, feels the emotions pulse harder, and resolves _he will not lose her_ )

except it happens again.

and again. . .

and again. . .

~*O*~

Daniel Fenton has become the secondary bane of his existence, and Vlad Masters doesn't know exactly how he feels about that.

because Daniel is a _genuinely good kid_ and he tries so very hard to keep his friends and his mother (he won't even think about Jack) safe from the ghosts who have named him enemy. but he's also the spawn of Jack _motherfucking_ Fenton, with the same hair and the same self-righteous attitude and his _Boy Scout morals_ make him want to vomit. there isn't much of Maddie to really be found in Daniel.

(not true he has her nose and her chin and her smile)

but Vlad Masters is nothing if not generous (yeah right) so he offers the boy everything he could ever dream. a tutor. a mansion for a home. a _worthy father_ , who would give him anything his heart desired and try his best to remain unobtrusive and love his mother more than anyone ever. . .

except. . .

in the back of his mind there is always Penelope. pretty little _piyavka_ with her venom green eyes and wicked sharp tongue, the only person who's managed to beat him in a game of chess since before the accident (Maddie never had the patience) and sometimes he wonders if he's walking the line between love and obsession.

(you've long since passed that line)

and he's lost track of his thoughts.

Daniel.

yes, that's it, he was thinking about Daniel and how the little badger functions. how will he react when Jack is finally dead? will he celebrate? see the error in rejecting his affections?

no, he thinks not.

because even though Daniel is a _genuinely good kid_ , he's stubborn as his mother and twice as set in his morals, and Vlad thinks that he might have to kill Daniel at the same time as his father. and though he will not hesitate in shoving his hand through Jack Fenton's chest, the thought of killing Daniel, a fourteen-year-old child who has already _fucking died_ in an accident caused by his own parents' ineptitude, makes him anxious. and nauseous. and disgusted with himself.

the feeling only grows when he meets Daniel during the Pariah Dark incident and the boy asks him "what did you do to Spectra, you fucking fruit-loop?!" and for a moment he's confused, but then he remembers Penelope's failed plan to stabilize her body and panic flood his chest. because he remembers the fight the night before, his hands around her throat and her _shriek_ when he slapped her with ectoplasm surrounding his fist.

and Daniel lashes out at the expression on his face and spews such venomous slurs that it momentarily takes him aback because, really, Penny _feeds on misery_ so why is Daniel so angry? but as he listens, he gets angrier, angrier, angrier, until he fucking _loses it_ and beats the boy to unconsciousness.

(Daniel doesn't remember)

(Vlad tells him that it was the Fright Knight and the next night, the boy takes down the ghost king)

~*O*~

tock.

tick.

the clock is moving backwards.

~*O*~

he waits exactly three weeks before Vlad Masters allows Penelope into his bed.

while she is beautiful and she is cunning and she is _so damn smart_ , he thinks that sometimes the emotiphage forgets her reputation proceeds her. the thrill of the chase eliminates common sense. and she is over-eager, lost in his toxic pull, so he lets her think she's manipulating him.

(she is)

he matches her step for step and the game of chess begins.

he is a master of the snarl, the snap – move the pawns to protect the king. but she is a genius of the coo, the sigh, the cold cruel breathe of reality that rejuvenates her face – flaunt the knight, likely readying the queen for a surprise attack.

and he lives alone in a castle in the middle of nowhere wisconsin, no company save her and corporate flunkies, with their sweaty bald heads and their eyes that leer at long legs as Penelope brings him leftovers for lunch.

he doesn't _want_ this woman, this witch, this _bitch_. he wants Maddie, wants blue hazmat suits and chestnut hair and purple eyes.

but he is still a man.

and he notices the extra buttons undone on her blouse, notices how she flashes her legs in short mini-skirts and winks at him over her sunglasses. and his heart races and his rage increases because, dammit, this was _not_ supposed to be happening to him. he will allow her into his bed, yes, but that's only because she could prove _useful_ , not because he _wants her_!

it is one night in december as they're drinking whiskey sours in the parlor and she laughs, high-pitched and awkward and _disgustingly adorable_ , that he snaps.

he's not exactly gifted at kissing, but his hands are skilled enough, and he follows the cues that Penelope gives him as he slides them up her waist and along her ribcage. tracks the happy little sighs and the gasps when he squeezes her breasts.

it's sloppy and messy, but Penelope allows him control, and that's enough for him because fuck the Chinese proverb that says control is an illusion.

she lets him pound her into the goose-feather mattress until sweat slicks along his back and his veins glow with the heat of his core, lets him gnaw at her throat and pin her hands above her head when she scratches too hard. let's him snarl and snap and _fuck_ until everything is a blur of heat and pleasure. and even though he doesn't have _Maddie_ yet, he can have _Penelope_ now.

so when he finishes, he bites down hard on the sloping line of her left shoulder and savors the ectoplasm running sweet over his tongue.

(he knows what it means to be Bit, feels the venom leave his fangs, but at this point he doesn't care.)

(the next time they fuck, she reciprocates with a savage bite to his clavicle and the scar she leaves is livid purple)

(as she drifts off to sleep, he smiles.)

~*O*~

there is one day that they do not fight, and it is the day that Vlad Masters realizes he's fucked.

he wakes in an exceptional mood with Penny snuggled under his arm, no alarm to jar him away from sweet dreams (Jack's corpse on the floor, Maddie in his arms, fire fire fire) and the sunlight outside is crisp with early spring. he doesn't feel the need to move. so he doesn't.

not until Penelope stirs, rolls over and presses a lazy kiss to the hollow of his throat with a raspy, "good morning."

and his breakfast plans dissolve into a vicious bout of love-making that leaves them both shaking and clutching at each other, followed by a shared shower that leaves them both smelling of bergamot and lemongrass. he tries not to trace the bruises dotting her back like a roadmap of rage and holds her close under the spray.

(ignoring it doesn't make it go away)

they're eating a late lunch when Penelope comes up with the idea of going to the county fair, and it's so preposterous that it stirs Vlad from his brooding momentarily. like she's _trying_ to keep him from falling into a deeper depression. which makes _no fucking sense_ , and he opens his mouth to say as much, but there's something in her eyes.

green green green like poison, like new life, and they're pleading at him, begging for him to take the opportunity, and fuck it all, he _can't say no_.

so he smiles at her, kisses her on the top of the head in silent agreement, and the sheer relief on her face is enough make him grin, even as she drags him into a flight that leaves his hair a fucking rat's nest and her top twisted.

the fair is small and quaint, much like the ones from his childhood, and Penelope seems to take immense pleasure in the fact that he can't beat the fucking ring-toss to save his life. nearly fifty dollars and many colorful swears later (mothers take your children from me) he presents her a fluffy plush of some sort, an adorable blue monster that she pointed out as they walked by. and the smile that she offers him is gentle and luminescent all at once and it makes his heart flutter in his chest.

later she smears cotton candy in his beard, and he retaliates by gnawing on her cheek, arms wrapped tight around her small waist.

it isn't until they're heading out that an older woman stops him, a carnival worker with dark hair and a weathered face that reminds him of his mother's. she presents him with a polaroid, him gnawing on a pretty peach cheek and Penny laughing hysterically, blue cotton candy and plush crushed between them.

"keep it, child. it isn't often that i see two so very in love."

he thanks her quietly, aware that Penelope is waiting just outside the carnival gates, and carefully places the photo in a jacket pocket.

tonight, he will place the photo in a frame and rest it on his bedside table. it's his new favorite picture.

(the next day they get into a knock-down drag-out that leaves Penelope in a crumpled heap, ectoplasm oozing from a fresh plasma burn on her ribs and him with a black eye and a split lip)

(he locks himself in the lab for hours after she leaves, screams and screams until his throat is raw because _she left him_ and _he's so fucking stupid_ and vows to never let her leave again once she returns)

(he's fucked)

~*O*~

one for sorrow. . .

two for mirth. . .

three for a funeral. . .

~*O*~

it's after he finishes his latest weapon that he finds Penelope has cried herself to sleep, curled around the plush monster like it will somehow protect her from him, and Vlad crushes his hands against something other than her body.

dammit, she is _his_ and _no one else's_ and the fact that he can't do something as simple as _make her happy_ makes him want to eviscerate the fucking cat. because the plan is going smoothly, dominoes falling into place, but he isn't so sure that he will be able to have Maddie anymore. because though he realized that getting Bit involved a certain degree of emotional attachment, he didn't realize it would fucking do _this_. it's like he can't breathe without knowing where Penelope is. can't think without questioning what she's doing, how she's doing, are they going to fight, is he going to hurt her?

and Vlad Masters _does **not**_ enjoy losing control over anything in his life, so this feels like the ultimate betrayal, so most of the time he takes it out on her for reciprocating the initial connection. which makes no logical sense, but we've long since passed the point of logic, haven't we? the biologist in him finds the concept fascinating. the mental and emotional connection of two intelligent beings - two beings with intellects higher than average, at that - should not link so strongly to a physical act.

but the proof is in the livid purple scars they both bear.

(this isn't healthy they're too dark too codependent and this is so _fucking bad_ )

so once he cleans the splinters out of his fists, Vlad joins Penelope in bed and marvels over how she automatically rolls into him. how her body shifts to accommodate his presence without conscious thought.

there's blood on the sheets from his hands, ectoplasm leaking from a cracked scab on her lips.

(he wonders if there's a way for him to translate this connection to a human subject)

Penelope tucks her head under his chin, smiles and mutters, "love you" in her sleep.

(Maddie could still be yours)

and Vlad's core leaps in his chest in time with his pulse and he cups the back of her head to hold her tighter.

(they _both can be_ )

~*O*~

there's a monster that looks like Daniel loose in the zone.

the others call him Phantom, as though the elimination of a familiar personal name is enough to distinguish between the Daniel of the present and the warped-mirror version of himself that exists outside of time. it isn't, really, because there's something deep in Vlad's gut that tells him there is more to this story. there is more to this version of the self-righteous teenage ghost boy than the tragic tale of a family lost that Clockwork has woven. he is too powerful, too skilled.

(too vicious too cruel too _you_ )

so as Penelope naps one day, Vlad slips out through the portal and goes on a hunt, Pariah's Keep being the logical first-step in a quest for a maniacal future-Fenton.

he finds what he is looking for, a tall man with broad shoulders and a shock of long, flaming white hair. green-tinted skin and _red eyes_ , and the familiar black-on-white insignia of his rival is mocking on the chest of someone as jaggedly broken as this one seems to be. Vlad watches, invisible, for a time. tries to piece together what exactly the plan seemed to be other than chaos and wanton destruction. but the lug just _fucking stands there_ , staring up at the sarcophagus and the Fright Knight's pumpkin with a sort of inscrutable expression that puts Vlad's diplomacy senses on edge.

"i know you're there, cheese-head. no point in hiding."

the boy's voice is deep and rasping, and something about the menace in his tone puts Vlad's teeth on edge.

but he returns to the visible spectrum with a smirk and retorts, "who said anything about hiding, dear boy? i'm merely observing from afar."

those eyes bore a hole through his metaphorical soul as the boy-monster snarls, "you're still a fucking coward, Plasmius."

something deep in Vlad shrieks, recoils, and suddenly he _understands_. his stomach drops to his knees, blue skin just a touch paler, fangs bore and dripping venom in their panic. because, of _course_ Daniel could only become a true monster with a lot of fucking help. because this Daniel isn't _just_ Daniel. he is also _him_ , all the bitterness and the anger and the vicious thirst for revenge that just refuses to let him go.

"how?"

the Daniel-Vlad monster snorts. "you're the genius, fruit loop. figure it out."

then his expression turns darker, more sinister. "i ran into Penny earlier. and i swear to fuck, if you kill her this time, i'll hunt your sorry carcass to the ends of hell and back. i did it on accident in my time."

"i don't think you'll do it on accident."

and the accusation _burns_ , like rage and regret and hellfire and Vlad _shrieks_ at the future version of the boy he so desperately wants to be his son (wants to kill).

before he can summon an ectoblast, Clockwork whisks the paradoxical beast away and Vlad is left to rage alone.

(that night he breaks both his fist and Penelope's arm and he for a split second he wonders if the boy had meant what he said)

~*O*~

four for a birth. . .

~*O*~

there is a warden in the zone and Vlad Masters hates him with a passion.

because Walker is more than _just_ an epic pain in the ass. he's an epic pain in the ass with enough sway to cause legitimate problems, one who can removes pawns from the chessboard without warning. who can throw a wrench in the plan and laugh as Vlad wracks his brain to come up with a new solution. and even though Vlad can appreciate the warden's compulsive need for order in a place as chaos-riddled as the zone, he _will not tolerate_ the blatant disregard that Walker pays him.

(not to mention that Walker has been watching Penny with hard eyes and _no_ he will _not take her_ )

it isn't until the warden incarcerates literally every one of his ghost-pawns that Vlad realizes this is a bigger problem than was previously noted. he's so close to victory, can taste Jack's blood on his tongue, and Walker could ruin it all. could rip the red-stained carpet from beneath his feet.

so Vlad pays the warden's guards a beating, releases everyone from their cells and sets out to find the epic pain in his ass.

only he finds Walker sitting calmly at his desk, not seething and shouting in that texas drawl he's so known for, and something like anxiety wriggles in the back of his mind. so Vlad remains wary, on his guard, and bares his fangs in a snarl that makes the warden's lip curl (holy shit his fangs are _bigger_ ) in disgust. it's a stare-down, the shootout at the ghost zone corral, except there are no bullets and no witty Doc Holiday. just a twisted half-ghost and a bristling specter.

"ya'll get it outta yer system? 'cause i don't particularly like dealin' with moody teenagers disguised as men."

(the rage hisses _kill him kill him kill him_ )

a smile curves Vlad's lips. "i was merely curious, warden. you detained my men without justifiable cause. i wanted two things: my pawns returned and answers as to why they were incarcerated."

"i locked those assholes up because they were makin' a nuisance of themselves. and i wanted to talk to you."

the green of Walker's eyes suddenly seems cold, and a shiver flies up Vlad's spine at the look. "whatever could _you_ wish to discuss with _me_? i was under the impression our disdain was mutual."

a sudden blast of ectoplasm catches him in the left shoulder, burns away the top of his suit, and Vlad snarls in rage. but then he catches a glimpse of the expression on Walker's face, the dark look of fury and in-credulousness, and glances down to where the other man's eyes have zeroed in. it's the scar, deep purple and livid against the skin of his clavicle. and Vlad _understands_. and it makes him want to bash something in, pound away at that stupid fucking face until ectoplasm slicks his knuckles and the body beneath him finally stops twitching.

"what the butter biscuits was that for?!"

Walker grinds his jaw so hard that Vlad is shocked his teeth don't shatter. "i had my boys pick up your girl last week. do ya have any _idea_ what you're doin' to her?"

he freezes.

the rage burns and the demons scream.

( _kill him kill him killhimkillhimkillhim)_

 _"you touched Penelope?!_ "

Walker stands and meets his snarl tooth for tooth, green eyes like an ectoplasmic tundra, and the warden roars, "i ain't the one _beatin'_ her! ya'll Bit one another! how could you just. . . ?!"

the warden trails off, evidently too angry to speak, and the understanding grows deeper. blood drips to the floor where Vlad has his fists and jaw clenched. "you know _nothing_. don't ever touch what's mine again, warden. or it won't just be your men i eviscerate."

(he's going to take her, going to take her away)

that night when Vlad gets home, he presents Penelope with a bouquet of her favorite flowers and kisses her on the forehead, holds her close and whispers that he loves her. smiles when she clutches tighter and pounces him and traces the edges of dark-purple bruises along the graceful span of her back.

(no one will take her away)

~*O*~

somewhere in the distance Penny is screaming and the world is spinning, and holy _fuck_ his chest hurts.

Maddie always was a hell of a shot.

there's a gaping hole in his chest, ribs shattered and muscle torn, and his lungs can't pull in air because they're fucking _wrecked_. but he's trying dammit, because Penny is crying and screaming, babbling out apologies and assurances that he's going to be fine, don't worry baby, I've got you, it's going to be okay. except it's not going to be okay. he's smart enough to know this, and through the searing pain he notices that Penelope's hands are too small to staunch the bleeding.

she's crying.

dammit, he made her cry again.

he reaches up and cups her cheek. "i . . . l-love. . . y-"

there isn't enough air in his lungs to finish and Penelope tells him as much, clutches him tighter and rocks him like a child. the world is going fuzzy but he can still see her eyes. bright green and shimmering emerald with tears and, oh _shit_ , he didn't mean for this to happen. he had everything he needed and he fucked it all away and now he's going to die with the sound of Penelope's shrieks ringing in his ears.

 _i love you_.

and he means it.

~*O*~

 **A/N:**

 **My hand slipped. . . .**


End file.
